


When Chowder met Farmer

by Jetlagden



Series: Check Please! Trope Challenge [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, F/M, Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Trans Character, Transphobia, Week 4 Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 00:29:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7955002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jetlagden/pseuds/Jetlagden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re very flexible,” she said, only a slight waver left in her voice, and Chowder nodded. He was very flexible. And drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Chowder met Farmer

**Author's Note:**

> Bad title, but well. Okay. This is basically just mindless fluff for the hurt/comfort trope for the Check Please Trope. I tried to make it angsty but I just can't put Chowder through anything bad, let alone Farmer. So this is hella light hurt/comfort. Warning for mentioned transphobia. 
> 
> Anyway, big thank you to Maura & Summer for being my betas! Any mistakes and typos left are my own.

Chowder absolutely loved kegsters. This one was especially fun, because they had won and he’d gotten his first shut-out and Shitty had made him do two kegstands to celebrate. Also, there had been a lot of tequila. Chowder loved tequila. Ransom and Holster had somehow talked him into doing bodyshots, which had seemed like a really good idea at the time, even if it was a little gross and sticky. He’d lost his shirt at some point, as well as his shoes. He wasn’t sure how that had happened. The only thing he was sure of at the moment was that he was absolutely gone and he had never felt better.

There were a lot of people at the party, though, and things were getting a bit suffocating inside. He’d stumbled his way through the crowd of people, accepting a plastic cup filled with what he hoped was water from Bitty with a lopsided smile on his way out. He let out a breath of relief when the cold air hit his face and bare chest. He looked around the yard, which was always strictly off limits for party guests, and figured the tree would be a very nice place to sit for a while. He dropped the now empty cup and carefully descended the steps down to the grass. So focused on not tripping, Chris didn’t noticed the person hunched over on the bottom step until it was too late.

Before he knew it, he was sprawled out on the grass, half on top of said person. He tried to scramble to his feet just as quick as the other person was, but couldn’t find his balance. Instead he just leaned back on his elbows, blowing his hair out of his eyes so he could take a good look at-  Oh god. Take a good look at the most beautiful girl Chris had ever laid eyes upon. He gaped a little, unsure of what to say to her- what were you supposed to say when you trip over someone _that_ gorgeous? Chris of course had practiced for when an occasion like this would come up, but now that it actually was there, he couldn’t remember any of his smart pickup-lines. Instead he just stared at the beautiful super tall girl with the really soft looking brown hair that kind of shined in the moonlight and cute dress and freckles and deep blue eyes that were filled with tears and- hold up a second.

Why was she crying?

“Why are you crying?” he blurted, before immediately recoiling and facepalming himself. The gesture lost him his elbow support, though, and he fell back on the grass. Once he got up and his vision stopped blurring, he could see the girl frowning at him, still hiccupping a little. Chowder could feel his ears heat up as he tried to sit up straight so he could look at her properly- he really was worried about her. Who cried all alone on the steps of the Haus when there was a ‘swawesome party going on inside? Especially someone this gorgeous? He cleared his throat, scooting a little closer and rephrasing his question.

“I mean- ‘s everything alright?” he asked, voice a little slurred. The girl blinked a little, looking at her feet and then back up again. She opened her mouth, before closing it again and bursting into tears again. Chowder startled, not having expected that. He moved forward as fast as he could, patting her arm.

“Don’t cry!” he offered, although he knew that was about the least helpful thing someone could say, “We’re at a party! And you’re like, super pretty.” He offered a lopsided smile as she looked up, still sobbing and with an almost suspicious look on her face.

“Yeah right,” the girl said, stumbling over her words and looking away from him a bit, “You don’t have to say that.” Chowder frowned, carefully crawling up to sit next to her.

“I wanna say that,” he assured her, leaning against the step behind them a bit so he wouldn’t fall, “Why’re you sad? Was someone like, mean?” He sat up, ready to fight whoever had been mean to her. This got a somewhat watery smile out of the girl and oh gosh, that was the best thing Chowder had ever seen, and that included that time his moms had taken him to a Sharks game for his seventh birthday and they’d won 6-0 against the Ducks.

“You could say someone was mean,” she said softly, wiping at her eyes, “It’s nothing, though. Nothing I’m not used to, just some lacrosse douchebags being their transphobic selves.” Chowder knitted his brows together. That was the biggest definition of mean. He told her as much, getting another snicker out of her, this time as she looked directly at him.

“You really are pretty though,” he informed her, only stumbling over his words slightly, “Really! I’m Chowder. Although I’m really Chris, but everyone calls me Chowder. Cause my last name’s Chow? But you can call me Chris if you want!” She blushed a little, speeding Chowders heartbeat up significantly. She wasn’t crying anymore as she introduced herself as Caitlin, shaking Chowder’s hand when he offered it. He almost fainted at the contact, and suddenly got an amazing idea.

She might have stopped crying, but she wasn’t smiling yet either. He had to make her smile. It was like, his duty. (And if he wanted to impress her a little too, well. That was nobody’s business.)

“Chris? What are you doing?” the girl- Caitlin- hesitantly asked, as Chowder just followed his instinct on how to cheer pretty girls up.

“Watch what I can do!” he called over as he stumbled towards the lawn, where he’d have enough space. He took a deep breath, waving at Caitlin in case she forgot to watch, stretched a little, and then did a split. And another one. And another one. He did a lot of splits, looking up at Caitlin in between to see if she was smiling yet. He couldn’t really see from this distance, though, so after one last split just in case, he rushed back over to her, panting a little. To his delight, she was smiling.

“You’re very flexible,” she said, only a slight waver left in her voice, and Chowder nodded. He was very flexible. And drunk.

“It’s cause I’m a goalie,” he proudly informed her, “Holster says I’m like, the best goalie but he’s just really nice. Oh! I can teach you. Come on!” He held out his hand, almost vibrating out of his skin with excitement at the prospect of teaching this really pretty girl how to do splits in the backyard of the Haus.

Much to his delight, it turned out she already knew how to do splits. He gave her an enthusiastic applause when she did one, and quickly joined her on the ground.

“You’re so cool,” he dreamily sighed, leaning forward on his hands to look up at her, because she was taller than he was, which was also really cool, “Are you a goalie too?” She leaned down as well, so they were on about the same height, just sitting opposite each other in splits.

“I play volleyball,” she said, “On the women’s team, which is so nice. I always used to play beach volleyball back home in California, and I’ve always loved it. I went to Samwell ‘cause they let me play on the women’s team here.” Chowder had no idea why she wouldn’t play on the women’s team, but there was some more important information to focus on. He audibly gasped.

“You’re from Cali? Wow, ‘swawesome! Me too, I’m from San Francisco! I never played beach volleyball, because I’m really bad at it, probably, but maybe you can teach me!” he rambled, “I play hockey! But you already knew that, I think. But like, you can’t really play hockey outside in San Francisco, which is sad… Where from Cali are you? Oh- do you like the Sharks?”

That night Chowder learned a lot about Caitlin Farmer, as they were spread out in the backyard. They eventually lay on their backs as they talked, the split position becoming a little uncomfortable. He learned she was from Los Angeles and actually supported the Kings, but she guessed the Sharks were cool too, that she wanted to become a surgeon or a journalist, that she’d been to France last year but that she’d never seen Mount Rushmore, that she could tapdance, that she was a year older than he was, and that her favorite food was actually clam chowder, which was totally a sign, if you asked Chowder.

She left the next morning after breakfast with Chowder’s phone number saved to her phone and a kiss to his flushed cheek.

The chirps that followed were totally worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you guys think in a comment! Did you like it? I'm doing all these tropes in the complete wrong order but hey, at least I'm writing!


End file.
